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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804591">and when i wake tomorrow i'll bet that you and i will walk together again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic'>hihoplastic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Worst Witch (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:49:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But despite her relative apathy over the goings on at Cackle’s, Hecate has always trusted Morgana’s intuition—when she first began working at Cackle’s, it was Morgana who woke her up in the middle of the night, screeching, and Morgana who led her to a small fire in the kitchen, steadily building. </p><p>It was Morgana who found a student passed out on the grounds one afternoon after a strenuous flying lesson, Morgana who always seems to know when Ada needs an extra cup of tea or someone to talk to. </p><p>And it’s Morgana who, after a day of doing nothing at all, jumps delicately on Hecate’s chest in the middle of the night and meows until she wakes, rubbing her eyes and glaring up at her familiar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and when i wake tomorrow i'll bet that you and i will walk together again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- For @linguini17 on tumblr, who requested "gen hecate + dimity + morgana"<br/>- title from the white stripes' "i can tell that we are gonna be friends"<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite the process of selecting a familiar—standing in line, allowed into the room one at a time to eye each cat individually, picking the cutest or the fluffiest or whatever else appeals to a child—Hecate has always believed that it is in fact the familiar that chooses her witch. She’s seen it again and again, cats (and owls, and rabbits, and very rarely, a dog or two) that seem to reflect most accurately their companion’s sensibilities. She sees it most in Mildred, and her ridiculous Tabby, but as much as the two of them frustrate her to no end on a daily basis, she knows they are perfectly paired. </p><p>She feels the same about her own familiar, the jet black cat who lounges insolently on her bed during the day, and creeps out at night to stalk the castle with Hecate when she can’t sleep. Morgana is, in Ada’s words, “particular,” but Hecate knows that just means quite prissy—she doesn’t get along well with the other familiars at Cackle’s; often, Hecate will find Ada’s and Dimity’s and Gwen’s cats, all piled together in the staff room in a spot of sunshine, while Morgana sits on the highest bookshelf, watching them with seemingly narrowed eyes and an air of disinterest at best, disdain at worst. </p><p>It always makes the rest of the staff chuckle, and Hecate doesn’t her best not to take it too personally; she knows she herself is standoffish and abrupt, outright snappish more often than not, and Morgana—who was once so sociable and cuddly—has also changed to reflect Hecate’s personality. </p><p>She rarely lets anyone touch her, often stays a safe distance away from crowds, and from the girls themselves, choosing to watch them all from one end of the hall, silent and—Dimity teases—“judgmental.” </p><p>But despite her relative apathy over the goings on at Cackle’s, Hecate has always trusted Morgana’s intuition—when she first began working at Cackle’s, it was Morgana who woke her up in the middle of the night, screeching, and Morgana who led her to a small fire in the kitchen, steadily building. </p><p>It was Morgana who found a student passed out on the grounds one afternoon after a strenuous flying lesson, Morgana who always seems to know when Ada needs an extra cup of tea or someone to talk to. </p><p>And it’s Morgana who, after a day of doing nothing at all, jumps delicately on Hecate’s chest in the middle of the night and meows until she wakes, rubbing her eyes and glaring up at her familiar. </p><p>Morgana gives her a look that Hecate swears is unimpressed before turning and jumping down off the bed. Hecate eyes her warily as she walks a few paces towards the door, stops, and turns around. </p><p>Hecate sighs. “What now?” she mutters to herself, but climbs out of bed, summons her robe and shoes and follows Morgana out the door. Her familiar keeps pace ahead of her, stopping at the end of each hallway or stairwell to ensure Hecate is still following. Hecate scowls, annoyed with the number of stairs Morgana keeps climbing, and wishes she’d figured out a way to transfer to whatever location Morgana deems worthy of her attention. </p><p>At the top of the stairs in the west turret, Morgana turns around and glares at her balefully, wholly unimpressed by Hecate’s pounding heart and slight lack of breath. It’s irritating, her body’s own limitations, but more than that, it reminds her of the freeze, only a few weeks ago now and still, the thought of it makes her weak in the knees, the knowledge that she could have spent the rest of her life this way—confined to Cackle’s, unable to use magic. The thought paralyzes her, and she stops at the top of the stairwell and leans against the wall for a moment, trying to catch her breath, no longer winded from the climb, but from the fear that someday, somehow, she could lose the only thing that she has left. </p><p>Morgana stares at her a moment, and Hecate shuts her eyes. Her familiar is not the most sympathetic, at the best of times, and she doesn’t want to see her wait impatiently, doesn’t want the reflection of herself—uncompromisingly, belittling, compassionless. </p><p>Hecate takes a few slow, measured breaths, and startles when she feels something brush against her calves. When she looks down, Morgana is rubbing up against her legs, looking up at her almost softly, kindly. </p><p>It’s okay, she seems to say, I’m here. </p><p>Hecate takes a deep breath, and allows herself a small smile. Perhaps not so bitter after all, she thinks, as Morgana arches on her back legs and places her paws on Hecate’s knees, giving a plaintive meow. </p><p>“Yes, alright, continue,” Hecate murmurs, and Morgana immediately jumps down and turns away, leading her out onto the turret. The wind bites at her cheeks the moment she opens the door, and again, she’s reminded of the freeze, the way the cold sank into her bones. Waving her hand, she enacts a small warming spell, feels it tingle along her spine and she feels less unsteady. </p><p>It’s dark outside, still the middle of the night, with only the moon and stars, half covered by clouds, for light. She peers around the turret, looking for whatever or whomever Morgana has lead her to, and is surprised to find not a child out of bed, or Mildred Hubble dangling off the side of the castle, but Dimity, sitting on the ground with her arms around her knees, staring blankly ahead of her. She hasn’t noticed Hecate, or Morgana, who crosses the space between them and, to Hecate’s surprise, settles close to Dimity, purring loudly. </p><p>Dimity blinks, looks down at Morgana and smiles slightly and sniffles, dashing a hand under her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she murmurs, but doesn’t move to pet the familiar, and Morgana simply bumps Dimity’s thigh with her head.</p><p>“Where there’s a familiar there’s almost always a witch, Miss Drill,” Hecate says, and Dimity startles so badly she upends Morgana, who gives Hecate a glower. </p><p>“Miss Hardbroom.” Dimity clambers to her feet, looking faintly embarrassed. “Is everything alright?” </p><p>Hecate doesn’t miss the way Dimity’s hands are trembling slightly, or the way Morgana keeps at her side, staring at Hecate. </p><p>“I believe that’s my question,” Hecate returns, feeling out of place with the tears still bright in Dimity’s eyes. </p><p>Dimity clears her throat, raises a hand to wipe her cheeks and then thinks better of it, lowering her arm to her side. “Fine. Just getting some air.” </p><p>“At two am.” </p><p>Dimity shrugs. “Free castle, isn’t it?” </p><p>Hecate nods, pursing her lips. She doesn’t know how to do this. How to connect with people, or how to comfort, and she hasn’t got the faintest idea why Morgana would lead her, of all people, to someone in emotional distress. Hecate looks around the turret for any signs of danger, but finds none, and knows it’s just her and Dimity and the tears between them. </p><p>Never much one for subtly, Hecate tilts her head and appraises Dimity with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been crying.” </p><p>Dimity huffs out a laugh, but it’s annoyed. “Brilliant deduction.” </p><p>Unfazed by her tone, Hecate shifts slightly, but doesn’t move any closer. “May I ask why?” </p><p>It’s as close as she can manage to an invitation, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing—emotional upheaval has always been Ada’s domain: crying girls, upset faculty, any source of internal stress or calamity handled with a soft, deft hand. Hecate is better at more direct crises—a student out of bed, an exploding cauldron, a physical enemy she can face and defeat. </p><p>She thinks of the ice, the way it clawed its way inside her, how she still wakes up short of breath and half frozen despite her blankets and the fire in the hearth; the way she couldn’t fight it, for all the magic within her. </p><p>Dimity looks at her strangely, hands wringing together in front of her, and it’s so unlike her—Dimity is almost always so full of life, full of good humor and wry wit and confidence, it’s strange to see her so unmoored. </p><p>“I’m alright,” Dimity says after a pause, though not very convincingly. She looks at the ground, at Morgana sitting primly at her feet, then back up at Hecate, almost a question in her gaze, searching for something, though Hecate is unsure what of. It’s clear, however, that she wants to talk, though Hecate isn’t certain it’s her she wants to speak to; and yet, Dimity has always been something of a friend to Hecate—she tolerates Hecate’s moods with good humor and a smirk, often makes a second cup of tea exactly how Hecate likes it, ready and waiting in the staff room, for the mornings Hecate is too busy to make her own, or forgets. Aside from Ada, she’s the one who smiles the most at Hecate, who banters with her, who will invite conversation even when Hecate is at her prickliest. When others give her a wide berth, Dimity will slump into the chair nearest her and chatter away, and though Hecate hates to admit it, her easy conversation often makes her feel better—makes her feel less alone in the castle. </p><p>Dimity is the one who brings Hecate things from the outside world, without ever being asked, and without the knowledge that Hecate cannot leave. When she travels, she often returns with potions ingredients, or a spell book, or something else she thinks Hecate might like. She never seems to take offense to Hecate’s gruff thanks, often a raised eyebrow and a slightly embarrassed, “you should not have spent your money on me,” that Dimity always ignores, smiling like she knows what Hecate really means is thank you. </p><p>That pleased little smirk is far away now, Dimity’s eyes bright with tears as she settles on the bench, Morgana at her feet. Suddenly aware the silence has stretched too long, Hecate clears her throat, and reaches for something to say. She wants something comforting, something that shows Dimity that she’s attempting to reach out, but what comes out instead is a faintly skeptical, </p><p>“That seems unlikely,” that makes Dimity look up with a sigh. </p><p>“Honestly, HB, I don’t have the energy to go twenty rounds right now. Can we save the banter for another time?” </p><p>It wasn’t what she’d meant to do, but she understands how Dimity took it that way. She thinks, for a moment, about leaving her alone, going back to her room and trying to sleep; but she knows she won’t not with Dimity still clearly struggling with something, and without Morgana, who keeps looking up at Hecate expectantly, like she wants her to fix something. </p><p>Avoiding the urge to chew on her lip, Hecate takes the few short steps to the bench and sits down next to Dimity, back straight and eyes narrowed on a point in the distance. Dimity startles next to her, and she can see her confused expression out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>“Sitting. I thought that would be obvious.” </p><p>“Yes, but why?” </p><p>Hecate taps her finger against her knee restlessly, but otherwise keeps perfectly still. “You seem… uneasy.”</p><p>Dimity sniffles and glares at the same time. “Putting it delicately, yeah.” </p><p>Hecate purses her lips. “I thought, perhaps, you might be interested in expressing whatever is upsetting you.”</p><p>“To you?”</p><p>“I am the only one here,” Hecate reminds her, “Unless you’d prefer to speak to my familiar.” </p><p>Dimity rolls her eyes, “Might be a better conversation,” she says, but her voice is teasing, finally, a little lighter, and Hecate buries a smirk. </p><p>“True,” she agrees, but isn’t quite certain that to say next, and the silence falls between them again. Morgana nudges her ankle, moving between her legs for a moment before she returns to Dimity. A cloud passes over the moon, and the sky darkens, and Hecate remembers what it was like, frozen, unable to move, unable to see, to breathe, but conscious, alone in the black. </p><p>She clenches her jaw until the cloud passes, and the moon peeks out again, casting a faint glow over the turret, over Dimity, who at once sighs, and tilts her head back to stare at the stars. </p><p>“I keep thinking about the freeze,” she admits, as if following Hecate’s train of thought. </p><p>Hecate swallows. “What about it?” </p><p>“Just… everything. The frozen school. All the girls on the hill—they were terrified. They thought they’d lost everything, and I thought—” She stops for a moment, and sighs. “When you and Ada didn’t come out, I thought… that was it. That you were gone. And Mildred, and Felicity, and Maud, and Enid, I—I know it’s ridiculous, but all I kept thinking was that I was going to have to tell their parents. I was going to have to tell their parents that I couldn’t save them.” She looks at Hecate, wide eyed, tears fresh in her eyes. “How do you do it? How do you tell someone something like that?” </p><p>Hecate shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know.” </p><p>Dimity sniffs again, wiping a hand under her eyes. “I know everything’s fine now. I know the girls are safe. But every time I close my eyes I just see our home, frozen, and I remember that I did <i>nothing.</i>” </p><p>She says it with a scorn that surprises Hecate, her eyebrows rising. “Is that truly what you believe?” </p><p>Dimity shrugs. “You and Ada were the ones inside. You were with the stone—”</p><p>“Frozen,” Hecate reminds her. </p><p>“You were going to give up your magic.” </p><p>“I failed.” She tilts her head. “Would you have preferred to be in my place?” </p><p>“I’d prefer to have done <i>something.</i>”</p><p>Hecate bristles at the self-loathing in her voice, the clear contempt she has for her perceived inaction. “If I remember correctly, Miss Drill, it was you who gathered the students and led them to safety. It was you who got them out of the castle in time, and you who made sure they stayed calm and guided them away from the danger. I would not, under any circumstances, call that <i>nothing.</i>” </p><p>“But Mildred and—”</p><p>“They were with Ada and myself, and therefore our responsibility. If anyone failed them, it was us.” </p><p>“You did everything you could,” Dimity says, and Hecate arches an eyebrow. </p><p>“I would say the exact same to you.” </p><p>Dimity nods, but her eyes are still bright when she asks, softly, “Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?” </p><p>Hecate sighs. It isn’t that she doesn’t know the feeling, doesn’t acutely understand where Dimity is coming from, or what she’s struggling with. But rather, she’s been doing her best to avoid thinking about it, avoid confronting her nightmares, her intrusive thoughts that bleed into daily lesson plans and detentions, and every time she glances at Mildred Hubble, the guilt is crippling. She could have died, could have lost her magic, and it would have been her fault—because she wasn’t fast enough, brave enough. </p><p>She thinks about telling Dimity this, wonders briefly if it would help either of them; but she doesn’t want to add to Dimity’s burden, so instead, she shakes her head and says plainly, </p><p>“Because they are our children.” </p><p>Dimity looks over at her, surprised for a moment—whether by the honesty or the implication that Hecate cares as much for their charges as she does, Hecate doesn’t know—before her face softens, and she nods. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “They are.” </p><p>Hecate nods back, and they fall into silence again, watching the clouds move across the sky, covering the stars, then revealing them again. Morgana has settled in between them, her tail flicking Hecate’s calf every so often, and her ears twitch in her sleep. Hecate still isn’t certain what Morgana hoped to accomplish by leading her, of all people, to Dimity, but part of her is glad she’s here—or rather, that someone is here, and Dimity isn’t alone. And, if she’s honest with herself, she’s glad she isn’t alone—though not happy, she’s relieved to know that she isn’t carrying the burden entirely by herself; that she isn’t the only one affected. </p><p>Glancing over, she checks on Dimity again, who seems, while not completely at ease, a bit better, and she wonders if Dimity is relieved as well. She thinks about their relationship, strange as it is, almost friends, constantly bickering, and yet, Hecate knows, there is very little she wouldn’t do for Dimity, if pressed even a little. She taught her in school, watched her grow up, and feels protective of her in a way she doesn’t feel of other teachers at Cackle’s. Dimity has always been kind to her, even when she didn’t deserve it, and it’s the responsibility she feels towards her, combined with some late-night goodwill that makes her say, </p><p>“If you are still concerned about your capabilities, Miss Drill, you should know that Miss Cackle has the utmost faith in you.” </p><p>It isn’t quite what she means to say, but Dimity looks over at her, considering. “And what about you?” </p><p>Hecate arches an eyebrow. “Does my opinion matter?”</p><p>To her surprise, Dimity sighs. “Of course it does. You know it does.” </p><p>Hecate thinks about all the things Dimity has said and done against her advice; and then, all the things she’s done because of it, and purses her lips. </p><p>“After Agatha tried to take over the school—and thereby excluding any and all possibility she might become headmistress in the future—Miss Cackle and I deemed it paramount to establish, in writing, a replacement should something… unfortunate befall myself or Miss Cackle. This way, it would be guaranteed Cackle’s would go to someone Ada approved of, without the intervention of the council or the Great Wizard.”</p><p>Dimity frowns. “Why are you telling me this?”</p><p>Hecate looks at her a moment, then rises, prepared to leave, and Morgana follows her, pausing at the door, waiting patiently while Hecate says, faintly embarrassed, </p><p>“Because we chose you, Miss Drill.” </p><p>Dimity blinks. “Me?” </p><p>“You are responsible, compassionate, fair-minded, and charismatic, and while I personally find your disciplinary skills lacking, you are quite obviously the best choice to assume the role of deputy, or headmistress, when and if the time comes.” She pauses, a slight smirk on her face at Dimity’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression. “What happened during the freeze was not your fault, Dimity,” she says softly. “And you would do best to concentrate on your successes, rather than your perceived failures.” </p><p>Slightly stunned, Dimity nods, and Hecate turns to leave, makes it to the door before Dimity finds her voice, and she turns, finds her watching her with a faint smile. </p><p>“Thanks, HB.” </p><p>Hecate glares at the nickname, and Dimity’s face brightens into a smirk.</p>
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